Brian Jacques - Redwall #20 - Eulalia!

When they came to cut Orkwil's bonds, he kicked and fought furiously. Bilger, Firty and Jungo had to hold him still as Codj severed the rope with his sword. Between them they dragged Orkwil to the mast, where Gorath lay chained. The badger appeared to be either unconscious or dead. Codj was not about to check on Gorath's condition, he stood with his sword ready, as Bilger and the others took a loop in the chain, and padlocked it around Orkwil's waist. Gorath suddenly stirred, so they got out of the way speedily.

Codj beckoned to his messmates. "Let's go an' git some vittles an' grog, the 'edgepig ain't goin' anyplace ... unless the stripe'ound eats 'im!"

Jungo scratched his tail. "Do stripe'ounds eat 'edgepigs? I didn't know dat."

Firty gave him a playful shove. "Codj wuz only jokin'."

Jungo thought about that for awhile, then called out to Orkwil as they headed toward the galley. "Don't worry if'n der stripe'ound eats yer, mate, 'e's only jokin'. Hurr-hurrhurrr!"

When they had gone, Orkwil tapped the badger gingerly. "How did you come to be captured, friend?"

Gorath opened his eyes, his voice sounded hoarse and slow. "I'm from the Northern Isles, they burned my house, and slew my grandparents. The one they call Longtooth

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battered me down with a ball and chain. I woke up chained to this mast. I don't know how long I've been on this ship, lost count of the days. My name is Gorath." He held out a huge, workworn paw. Orkwil clasped it.

"My name's Orkwil Prink, I'm from Redwall Abbey."

The big, young badger suddenly became alert. "Redwall Abbey! I've heard about it, Orkwil, is it as marvellous as they say?"

The young hedgehog's eyes filled with tears. "Even more marvellous, Gorath, I've come to realise that now. That golden fox, Longtooth, he wants to go there with his vermin. I'm sure they plan on attacking it. Listen, friend, we've got to get to Redwall before they do. Could you make it?"

The badger's reply was tinged with bitter irony. "Why of course, Orkwil, but there's a little matter of a steel chain and an iron padlock holding me to the mast. Only for that I'd love to go to Redwall with you. I see you're locked up, too, how do you plan on leaving this ship?"

The young hedgehog inspected the padlock that held him to the chain, then he took a glance at Gorath's lock. "Huh, that shouldn't be too hard, mate, I've dealt with better locks than these rusty ole things."

The badger seized his friend's paw. "D'you mean you could open these locks?"

Orkwil winced. "Aye, providin' you don't break my paw, you've got a grip like a pike's jaw. Find me somethin' like a pin, or a nail, an' I'll have us free in a jiffy!"

They sat there, scanning the deck keenly, but there was no sign of anything useful. Then Orkwil pointed. "What's that thing sticking in the mast?"

Gorath's heart leapt as he caught sight of the object. "That's Tung, my pitchfork. The fox must've forgotten he threw it. He walked off and left it there!"

Orkwil cautioned Gorath. "Keep yore voice down, mate.... Whoops!"

Being locked close to Gorath on the chain, Orkwil was

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suddenly swung into the air as the badger reached up and grabbed the pitchfork, which he pulled loose with a few good tugs. Orkwil hit the deck with a bump, gabbling out instructions to his big friend.

"Get down an' lay low, hide that thing before anybeast comes up on deck, hurry!"

Gorath lay flat, concealing most of the pitchfork with his body. Orkwil kept watch, assuring himself that all was quiet above deck. He ran his paws around the mast, searching until he found what he needed.

"Now go nice'n'easy, friend, there's a nail stickin' out a bit, right about where my paw is now. Could you lever it out quietly with one o' the prongs of your fork?"

Whilst Orkwil kept watch, Gorath probed at the nail-head. Getting the prong of his weapon beneath the lip of the nail, he levered carefully at it. The nail gave a slight creak, then it began to move, bit by bit. Gorath wiggled it from side to side, until it loosened. Putting the pitchfork aside, he braced himself. Gripping the nail in his big, blunt claws, he heaved away, yanking it free of the mast timber. '

They both sat with their backs to the mast, as Orkwil took the nail and went to work. He twiddled it in the keyhole of Gorath's lock. The badger watched anxiously, whispering, "What's happening, is it opening?" He fell silent as the young hedgehog glared at him, wiggling the nail back and forth. Orkwil grinned.

"A good thief can open any lock. There!"

The padlock lay open. Gorath breathed a huge sigh as he loosed the chain from his middle.

Orkwil chided him, "Be still, bigbeast, give me a chance to get my lock off. Wait... wait... ah, there it goes, mate!" The chain clanked to the deck. Orkwil was about to rise, when he sat back down speedily. "Be still, somebeast's comin'!"

It was Codj, coming to check up on the two prisoners. Halting where he knew he was out of the badger's reach,

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the stump-tailed fox peered through the darkness at them both. He was surprised to see Gorath sitting upright, though he could not see that the captives were free. Codj turned away, heading back to his cabin, commenting aloud, "Still alive, eh, Rock'ead, huh, wot keeps ya goin'?" He half-turned as something sounded behind him, but Codj was too late. Gorath's huge paws were around the fox's neck, and he was whispering in his ear.

"I'll tell you what keeps me going, the need to slay my kinbeasts' murderer. Tell me again how you locked them in a farmhouse, and burned them alive. Tell me!"

Orkwil watched in horrified fascination as Gorath shook the already dead fox like a rag. He ran to the badger, tugging at his simple, homespun tunic. "Come on, mate, leave him, we've got to get away from here. We must get to Red-wall an' sound the alarm!"

With the limp form of the fox still clenched in his paws, Gorath turned to face the young hedgehog. Orkwil gasped with fear. The badger's eyes were blood red, his teeth bared like a madbeast. Gorath was in the grip of Bloodwrath. Then something very odd happened. Gorath dropped the carcass of his foe, picked up both Orkwil and his pitchfork and slid over the side of the ship, into the River Moss. By the time they reached the bank, he appeared quite calm. Orkwil attributed his friend's sudden change to the cold riverwater.

"Which way to your Abbey, my friend?"

Orkwil pointed. "Go east, we'll cross to the other bank when we're safe out of this area."

They set off into the nightshaded woodland, with Orkwil leading the way. He had been walking rapidly for awhile, when he noticed that Gorath was dropping behind. The badger's pace was noticeably slower, and he was having to stop, leaning on the pitchfork, with his huge striped head drooping. The hedgehog waited until his friend caught him up, one look at Gorath was all he needed, Orkwil shook his head.

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"Yore in bad shape, everythin' is catchin' up on ye. Rest, an' vittles, that's what y'need, matey. Sit down."

Gorath slumped wearily to the ground. His head wound, thirst, starvation and cruel treatment had finally taken its toll. That, with his brief attack of Bloodwrath, had left him as weak as a Dibbun.

Orkwil scratched his headspikes, trying to think what to do. The answer came to him in a flash, he took command, issuing Gorath with orders. "I've got it! I know this neck o' the woods, mate. Now you stay here, keep that Tung thing with ye, but don't move, sit right here. I think there's a big, ole bed of ferns hereabouts, stay clear of it, 'cos it's a swamp. Someplace along the bank there's a fat, greedy vole. That beast's got two things we need, vittles an' a place to rest. You stop here, I'll come back for ye as soon as I can. Understood?"

Gorath rose with a grunt. "I'm coming with you."